


fragile; treat with care.

by propeller



Series: everything that i know about you. [4]
Category: Dolan Twins - Fandom, Magcon (Video Blogging RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Fluff, Implied Sexual Abuse, M/M, a really soft fic :(, annoyed grayson, as based on request, but each chapter can count as a stand-alone, clingy ethan, ethan goes through traumatic events, intruder breaks into their house and sexually abuses ethan, no twincest in this one, slow build-up, spooky szn, trigger warning, tw, violence?, when grayson isn't around
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-12-21 01:42:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21066701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/propeller/pseuds/propeller
Summary: --Ethan had always supported sexual abuse-survivors. He didn't realise that he would become one of them.--"Grayson, please don't leave." His eyes were pleading, glistening with tears; his plump lips slightly parted - as his unkept, wavy hair flopped over his right eye."Ethan, I'm literally going to the grocery store. What's gotten into you?"--





	1. trampled on.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lauren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauren/gifts).

> AS BASED ON REQUEST: 
> 
> " Hi! I love all of your work and I’m so happy to see you taking requests! A story idea I’ve had for a long time is Ethan, in some situation, getting beat up and sexually abused in a situation that Grayson doesn’t find out because the bruises aren’t visible and Ethan doesn’t tell him. However, Ethan becomes clingy and wants to be around Grayson all the time because he is upset and scared. This causes Grayson to grow angry with him, therefore hurting Ethan more and causing lots of fluff when they make up and Grayson realizes what happened to his brother. "
> 
> \--
> 
> please discontinue reading if you are uncomfortable with profanity, or implied sexual abuse. thank you.

"Grayson, please." His eyes were pleading, glistening with tears; his plump lips slightly parted - as his unkept, wavy hair flopped over his right eye.

"Ethan, I'm literally going to the grocery store. What's gotten into you?" An irritated Grayson snapped, narrowing his eyes, with one hand on the doorknob, and the other holding his phone, impatiently.

Ethan swallowed a lump in his throat, breaking eye contact. He looked over towards the TV mantle. His eyes raked over the framed photographs, the various candles, the Halloween decorations. Literally, on anything, but his twin. "N-nothing. Forget it." His voice cracked, before he cleared his throat, and tried again. "See you soon." Ethan dismissed, waving his hand as if it was no big deal. His voice was a few octaves lower than usual, brimming with undetected emotion; as if he was thinking about every word that he was saying. Finally, he looked back at his expectant twin brother, who was staring him down. They held an unbroken gaze for a couple of beats, almost as if Grayson was trying to size him up, _wondering why he was being so weird. _Ethan could feel his twin's eyes on him; questioning, silently inquiring. And, he hated that.

He didn't want Grayson to look at him for even a second longer. Ethan was _disgusting, _and Grayson, who he loved more than anything, _should not witness that. _

So, Ethan plastered a smile that took all of his willpower to express. But, as he reached for his phone - something to distract him, _something to make him feel normal, like how the old Ethan was - _his fingers were trembling.

An impatient Grayson looked longingly out of their French windows, before chewing on his bottom lip. He sighed, and then shrugged at his brother's antics, before turning towards the door; a hand already tousling his hair sub-consciously.

"Gray!" Ethan called out desperately, just as Grayson stepped into the glaring Californian sunshine. E winced at how unapologetically loud his exclamation was. 

Grayson inhaled deeply, shutting his eyes temporarily, borderline annoyed. He turned expectantly, crossing his arms.

"Please _lock the door when you leave_."

* * *

He lay there, in his bed - his eyes accustoming to the darkness. He stared at the ceiling above of him. His phone was ignored, as countless notifications dinged through, over the hours. Anyone who came anywhere near Ethan, would be able to tell that he was visibly shivering. Not because it was _cold, _either.

Oh no, it was a different matter all-together. He gritted his teeth, his eyes clenching shut angrily as he attempted to black out the memory of his abuser's skin on his own. He failed. The thoughts resurfaced - his brain playing the sickening event, over and over, as if it was a film with a broken pause button.

* * *

_"You'll do this for me, or I'll fucking ruin your brother." The man growled, striking Ethan's warm, red face with yet another unapologetic slap. Ethan sat there, taped to the chair, his arms tied behind him, the majority of his mouth covered, unprofessionally, with the iconic grey scotch tape, and he winced. I**t's not even good scotch tape. It feels fucking cheap****.** Ethan thought to himself, gritting his teeth at how much his entire body hurt. The masked intruder was smart, Ethan would give him that credit. He hadn't hurt Ethan to a point where he would bruise; but rather; struck him in different locations, varying each and every time. Ethan could barely think anymore. The painting behind the other man, was now becoming a blur - his vision constantly decreasing, his breathing heavy, as he shut his eyes, not even allowing any tears to escape._

_Ethan mumbled a reply pathetically, which was inaudible due to the heavy tape. This only angered the man further, who grabbed Ethan from his nape, pulling him towards his own face, and then tugging on Ethan's brown locks harshly, making him cry out in pain. _

_"I said, you'll fucking do this for me. You already know what I'll do to your motherfucking brother, if you don't. What was his name? Again? Grayson?" He seethed, his eyes piercing into Ethan's aggressively. A loud, and inaudible protest came from Ethan, who was now grunting, and wriggling in vain. The grip on Ethan's hair tightened, as the intruder pulled off the tape with no remorse, wanting to hear what the pathetic little YouTuber had to say._

_"Don't. Even. Fucking. Say. His. Name." Ethan spitted out blood on the tiled floor, before looking up at the man, with almost fire in his eyes, his fists clenching behind him. All he saw was red._

_"That's not what I want to hear from you, pretty-boy. Tell me what I want to hear." The intruder was enjoying this, and a shit-eating smile spread over his features. He hated the pair of these asses. Who did the twins think they were, taking over his entire career, when it was only just blossoming? **He was the one who was meant to have all these fucking fans. He was the one who should've had the house in California, the flashy cars, the endless clout, and the support. Not these two. They were filth. **_

_When Ethan didn't respond, the other man shrugged, before letting go of Ethan's hair, and dropping his knife on the floor. It made a loud clang, but it wasn't like anyone was going to hear it anyway. The house was empty, except for the them._

_The man walked over towards the TV mantle, his fingers tracing the surface, as he teasingly looked back at Ethan, who was watching him intently with a grave look - all colour draining from his face, as he saw what the man had in his hand. The intruder picked up a framed photograph of Grayson at some award show back when they were about sixteen- a picture that Ethan himself had captured, because he'd never seen Grayson so happy before, so carefree, so vibrant. Needless to say, it was one of Ethan's favourite pictures of Grayson, even though Gray always protested about how he looked like a dumbass in it._

_Ethan struggled in the chair again, his wrists only becoming more inflamed from the strain of the rope. The man was now caressing the picture, his eyes lingering over the image of Grayson for far longer than Ethan was comfortable with. "Hmm." The man hummed, licking his lips without realizing. Time seemed to slow down for Ethan, and he could no longer feel anything except for complete resentment for whoever this person was._

_"**Fine.**"_

_Birds were chirping outside, the sunlight gleaming through their house in California. Grayson wasn't around. He had flew to New Jersey to see their mother, a few days ago, with the reassurance that Ethan was fine for a couple of days by himself. Their house was isolated from any neighbours, and their backyard was basically a forest._

_The word made the intruder look away from the photograph, and he focused his gaze on Ethan, smiling expectantly._

_"I'll do anything you want." Ethan finally whispered, his words barely audible even though he no longer had the tape on his lips. He looked away, clenching his jaw, in loss of any control. He was helpless. Vulnerable. A fire burning inside him._

_So, when the intruder grinned wickedly, and began unzipping his own pants, walking nearer towards him; Ethan didn't even voice a protest. Instead, he just shut his eyes, and willed for the moment to be over._

* * *


	2. for the love of you.

* * *

The moonlight casted shadows through the partly-open, black curtains. The moon was the only source of light in the entire, dark room, and it played on Ethan's features brilliantly - the luminous glare from it, flickering, and almost-dancing, on half of Ethan's face. Ethan, meanwhile, lay in almost a trance-like-state. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was steady, but he was crossing his arms - asleep, but with no dreams. Only, a seemingly black void, which was all that his brain could come up with whenever he slept, lately. Yet, it was an escape for him; there was nothing more he loved than sleep (with the exception of Grayson, obviously) - and now, even after all that happened, it was no different.

* * *

However, normally his dreams were vivid, and imaginative. They were like skyscrapers of creativity, and Ethan often found himself lounging on one of the kitchen barstools, a cereal spoon in one hand, and his other hand scrolling through his social media - as he told Grayson about the previous night's dream. Grayson would muse over them, and laugh whenever he thought something was utterly ridiculous.   
"_Ethan, who the fuck has dreams about blobfish wearing Victoria's Secret lingerie, walking down their model runways, and then becoming mascots for them?" _Grayson had asked once, sniggering, as he mashed his usual avocado in a bowl, before looking over at his twin, for an explanation.   
"_You never know, Gray. Maybe blobfish wearing thongs, and lacy negligees, are the secret that Victoria's Secret has been keeping." _Ethan had casually shrugged, whilst swallowing another spoonful of Cheerios.' This had made Grayson pause momentarily, before he chewed his bottom lip in deep thought. Then, he met Ethan's gaze, before narrowing his eyes questioningly. _"How would a blobfish walk?" _

But, anyway - that was way before. Way before all of _what happened_ had happened. Now, Ethan barely woke up before the afternoon, and when he did, he was quiet and reserved, dodging all of his twin's curious stares. Grayson never questioned him anymore, but instead had just brushed it off as one of Ethan's phases. They'd been having too many arguments lately anyway, so Grayson preferred to tiptoe around fragile eggshells whenever they had a conversation, rather than confront Ethan and demand what was wrong. It wasn't like he hadn't asked what was wrong, _because he did. _And, Ethan had never answered properly. So, Gray let him get over on it by his own, which sounded shitty, but really, it was just the way Ethan was.

* * *

Back in the room, an almost-formidable Ethan was finally asleep; leaves rustled outside, and twigs scraped his window.

Controversially, Grayson, for once in his life, was barely able to sleep - in his own room. He had been walking down the hallway, and then heard muffled sounds coming from his twin's room, before assuming that Ethan was probably toying around with his controller, playing Fortnite again, even though it was the odd hour of 2AM.

It had Grayson so fucked-up; just the sheer fact that despite living in the same fucking house, and being twins, and practically soulmates - Ethan still chose to not tell him what had been bothering him for so many weeks. Grayson was sick of this shit. Ethan couldn't just get away with playing some dumb video games all-night, and then sleep into the late afternoon, before waking up, and then barely acknowledging Grayson's presence.

So, filled with rage, and absolute determination to smoothen down matters once and for-all - Gray nervously patted down his bed-head hair, before storming into Ethan's room.

What he saw, made him stagger backwards. The desktop monitor wasn't even on. Instead, Ethan was curled up into a small ball, his arms crossed against his chest - and his duvet covering the majority of him. At first, Grayson could barely detect where that low whimpering sound came from, but when he realized - _it hit him hard. _

Ethan Dolan, was _crying_ in his sleep. A sight that Grayson had never seen before, and one that he would've never wanted to. They never showed their weak, _pussy_ sides to each-other. They preferred to do that in the privacy in their own rooms. However, here Ethan was; whimpering, and breathing heavily while his eyes were still shut. Grayson swallowed a lump in his throat, tangling a hand in his hair in frustration, _wondering what the fuck was up_, before making his way over to his womb-mate.

He'd never seen his brother so distraught before, so _vulnerable. _It was just something unimaginable. With the exception of the past few weeks, Ethan was the amusing one; the light-hearted one; the positive one. But, now, he was barely a shell of himself. As Ethan let out a low, desperate groan, and reached for his pillow beside him, before clenching it angrily - Grayson watched him from a few feet away, stunned beyond words, as if he were watching a ballet recital.

Then, something finally clicked in his brain, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he kneeled on the bed, beside the still-unconscious, and oblivious Ethan. "E." Gray whispered desperately, his voice cracking, as he shook Ethan awake. It was a hard feat, considering how Ethan never woke up for anything. But, this time, Grayson had grabbed Ethan by the shoulders, and tugged on his brother's hair - more afraid than determined.

This action made Ethan wake up, gasping for air, as he slowly opened his eyes - the feeling of rough hands in his hair, were all-too-familiar. For a second, Ethan almost thought that it was _him_, again. But, instead, it was Grayson. _Gray_. His Grayson. The one who he was trying to avoid. Ethan saw him, and Gray wore an absolutely terrified expression.

A lifetime seemed to pass between them, as they stared at each other - neither of them knowing what to say. Grayson was kneeled over Ethan's vulnerable figure, and once he realized this, Gray scooted back to the end of the bed, before observing his brother's bloodshot eyes, and the light-pink bags underneath them.

"What's. Wrong." Grayson finally growled, his hands shaking - still unable to recover from the sight of the person he loved so dearly, go through something like that. Was Ethan having a nightmare? Could he be? No. Nightmares were Grayson's thing, and even for Gray, they weren't _that bad. _Not to an extent where he was literally groaning in pain, in his sleep.

Ethan licked his lips, blinking, before croaking out a small reply - silently cursing himself for falling asleep. "Bad dream."

"No. _No. _That was not a fucking bad dream. I know a bad dream, and that definitely was not a "_bad dream," _Ethan. So, you better tell me whatever the fuck is going on, right now." Grayson swore, his fists balling up, instinctively.

Ethan sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling, feeling Grayson's penetrating gaze on him. He rubbed his stubbled jaw, and yawned, already over it. It happened to him every day anyway. He'd just never had Grayson walk in on him, when it happened. Those mid-dream panic attacks. Where he felt completely helpless, and when the scenes played over in his mind over, and over. Talking about it would just make it worse.

"Just go back to sleep, you sleepy fuck." Ethan attempted, even offering a soft smile - as if the past few minutes never happened, even though Grayson witnessed it, and it was embarrassing that he did, to say the least. Even though it took all his willpower to smile, Ethan's heart, and mind, were _miles_ away.

_Okay._ Grayson stared at him in disbelief, before standing up, not knowing what to say. _If Ethan wanted to act like that, then so be it. _

"I couldn't sleep. I feel sick. Something's unsettling me, lately. It's just this really weird feeling, I don't know. And, I went to get a glass of water, before I came in and saw all th- " Grayson looked away, cutting off his own sentence, as he rambled. He had a million things he wanted to say to his indignant brother, but he didn't know where to start. Let the record state, that Grayson Dolan never knew what to do in a scenario that caught him off-guard.

When Ethan didn't reply, Grayson sniffled - before sitting back on the back, his mind racing. "Mind if I crash here for the night?" He poised the question casually, not wanting to ruin anything by sounding desperate_. He had_ to be there for Ethan, even if Ethan didn't admit it. There was no way that Ethan would ever ask Grayson willingly, to sleep with him, but he would never refuse, and he always heard Ethan's sighs of contentment whenever Grayson would snuggle up with him, tangling his own legs with Ethan's. Instictively, Ethan's arm would curl around Grayson's waist, and they'd both have an undisturbed sleep. A peaceful one, if you must.

However, it completely surprised Gray when Ethan shook his head, burying his head back into his pillow, as if the idea of Grayson sleeping with him, repulsed him. "No, you big baby. Go back towards your own room, _Grayson._" Ethan mumbled, mostly talking to the pillow.

"We gotta wake up early to edit a video for the channel. It'd be better if you leave." Ethan tried again, matter-of-factly. Little did Grayson know, that Ethan's own heart was shattering, and dropping as soon as he had said 'No' to him.

Ethan could practically feel the hurt radiate off of Grayson, who watched Ethan's bare back flex. Grayson swallowed, and nodded, shrugging casually. "All good. Just, uh, let me know if you need anything. I've got sleeping tablets in case you need any." Grayson offered, his voice a few octaves lower than usual, as he stood up, and rubbed Ethan's back comfortingly. Ethan reacted to this by hiding his face further into the pillow, pretending to fall asleep.

Only when the door shut behind Grayson, did Ethan turn back to face the ceiling, again, and he closed his eyes for the second time that night. Stray tears escaped, and cascaded down his jaw; ignored. 

"I love you." He murmured out-loud, knowing Grayson had already left, and wouldn't be able to hear him.

* * *


	3. love-starved.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But now, the blood pounded in his ears. His heart thudded in his chest. His hands shook. His feet tingled. His vision disfigured, as if he were looking through a fish-eye lens. He had told Grayson that he would be with a friend, but instead, he was here. Barely able to breathe. "

* * *

The restless night eventually passed, and it was about 1:15 in the afternoon, when Ethan finally emerged from his room, sleepy-eyed, and carrying his phone. Grayson was already seated at the dining table, and he looked up from his phone expectantly, taking another bite of his sandwich as he did so. Sunlight poured through from the front porch, and it lit up their living area wonderfully - there was no need of any artificial lighting in a house like theirs.

"The video -" Ethan murmured, not meeting his twin's eyes. "Already cancelled the meeting with our editors." Grayson shrugged, looking as if he'd recently taken a shower. It angered Ethan that Grayson was here, dressed in his favourite Gucci shirt, and a pair of acid-washed jeans - looking decent, whilst Ethan was out here looking like a sewer-rat.  
And, Ethan felt petty about thinking like this, because it was his own depression that made him not want to do anything anymore. Ethan sniffled, and nodded, still standing there awkwardly. His lips felt like the Sahara desert, and he wondered when was the last time he had a glass of water.

Grayson returned his attention to his Twitter timeline, surprising Ethan by not even acknowledging last night. _Fuck, he felt awful about it._

"You look like you crawled out of a sewer." Grayson eventually added, still scrolling through his phone. The bluntness caught Ethan off-guard, who smiled without realising. "Thanks." Ethan snorted, taking the seat opposite Gray. "You didn't make anything to eat for me?" It was an ordinary question, but it made Ethan felt normal as he said it. Grayson looked up to meet his brother's hesitant gaze; a lock of hair covering his eye. "I didn't know when you'd wake up, or if you would wake up."

Ethan rubbed the back of his neck, still staring at Grayson, who seemed perfectly content with just staying at home, and making awkward conversation with Ethan all-day. There were no mentions of any plans for the day, or even anything mildly interesting.

Their bond that normally prevented them from being all off-standish, seemed to have evaporated into thin air. Everything fun seemed as if it had happened years ago, and Ethan was sick of waking up, feeling like he was swallowed by a dark void.

"Whaddyou want to eat?" Grayson finally said, stacking his dishes, and leaning over the dining table towards E, resting his face in his cupped hands. The veins on his forearms became prominent as he did so.

Ethan shrugged, before finally giving into the urge that he had - he leaned over, and swept the lock of hair away from Grayson's eye.  
Grayson blinked, clearly not expecting for Ethan to do that. And, Ethan sat back, wishing he hadn't. An uncomfortable silence settled between them, and Grayson cleared his throat before standing up.

"I’m meeting up with a friend today." Ethan erupted suddenly, desperate to feel like himself, and desperate to go back to the way things were. The sentence made Grayson, who was walking towards the kitchen, stop. "Really?" A disbelieving smile played on his lips.  
Ethan coughed nervously, before nodding. "Yeah."

"Alright. Cool. I was going to head to the grocery store anyway. I guess you can take your truck, right?"

"That was the plan." Ethan grinned, leaning back into his seat. This earned a soft smile from Grayson, who was trying to hide how tense he really felt. He really did love Ethan more than anything.

"Alright, alright. See you soon." Grayson walked over to behind Ethan's chair, after putting the dishes away, ruffled Ethan's messy hair, before quickly leaning over and placing a fleeting kiss on Ethan's forehead. "Love you." He murmured against Ethan's now beet-red skin, before abruptly leaving the room.

Ethan didn't say it back, but his heart expanded with all the love possible. He couldn't portray it, but he felt it. It was like when he met his fans; it would be inappropriate to hug the younger ones, but the love that he had for them would always be there. The small kiss that Gray gave him was something so affectionate, something so surprising, and gentle; that it had made Ethan feel like a whole-ass fucking mess. He was touch-starved. _Love_-starved. A steady blush crept up his neck, before he tried to return his attention to his phone; glad Grayson couldn't see him. He couldn't stop smiling.

* * *

Ethan couldn't control it. _He couldn't control himself_. It was his third anxiety attack of the week, and he let it course through him, hugging his knees closer to his chest. He buried his face into his palms, a tear escaping his left eye. "_Fuck_." He groaned, willing himself to stop shaking. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even make another sound; so wrapped up into his own paranoia. He felt as if time had both slowed down, and sped up at the same time, and he choked down muffled sobs.

He'd been through a few of these anxiety-attacks before, and he knew it had gotten bad when he found himself placing down a brandless bottle of anxiety medication, down on the pharmacy counter, the other day. The pharmacist had given him a concerned smile, before confirming that he knew what they were for. He'd nodded impatiently, not saying anything, knowing his voice would've wavered, making him sound like a complete pussy. "$19.18, thank you. Have a good day." She had grinned, her dark lipstick suiting her. Ethan didn't make eye-contact, but instead, had nodded pathetically again. "

You too." He had mumbled, gently taking the bag from her. As soon as he was out of sight, he looked around at the deserted carpark, and had swallowed two of them without any water. When he had driven home - about to face Grayson; he looked at his palm, at the measly-looking, almost-formidable blue pills. Then, he closed his eyes briefly, and swallowed down another two, telling himself it was a temporary thing. _Only so it doesn't happen in front of Grayson. Then, I'll flush the rest of the pills. I don't need them._ Obviously, that had rung untrue, as the formidable bottle of pills were still hidden in his bathroom, placed there just-in-case.

**He didn't let himself think about how the bottle was practically empty by this point.**

The worst part was, that an hour ago, Grayson had called to ask him how he was going; treating him like a fucking _fragile_ mail delivery. Ethan had responded surely, and positively - telling him that he wasn't at home, and that him and Nate, his friend, were out at the local sushi place. It was a _flat-out lie_. Instead, he was at home, in bed, barely even doing anything except for thinking. Grayson had voiced an eager reply, before telling him that he was going to run some more errands, and then maybe meet up with their managers. Ethan had reassured him that it was okay.

But now, the blood pounded in his ears. His heart thudded in his chest. His hands shook. His feet tingled. His vision disfigured, as if he were looking through a fish-eye lens. He had told Grayson that he would be with a friend, but instead, he was here. Barely able to breathe.

A few painful minutes passed, where he felt distorted, gasping for air. Willing himself to stand up and _get his pills_. But, he couldn't do anything. He was practically set in stone. As if he was trapped, underwater, unable to get to any air. As if there was no way to escape. He was shivering, feeling as if the entire world was about to collapse on him; wanting to rip himself apart - unable to do anything to get rid of this _awful fucking feeling._

Then, it finally felt as if someone had done the Heimlich manoeuvre on him, and he coughed, falling forwards on his knees, tears flowing freely now. Beads of sweat decorated his forehead, and his hair was slicked back; his lips swollen.

The fact that the worst of it was over, was all that mattered.

He shakily stood up, clutching the lamp-stand near him, his hands wrapped so tightly around it that his nails dug into his palms. Breathing was hard. Really hard. As if he’d just run the Boston Marathon.

He cried harder, his chest growing tight as bile rose in his throat - hating himself more than anything.

* * *


	4. beyond repair.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Grayson didn't know how to react to the fact that his brother was taking prescription medicine for something he didn't even know he had. Following Ethan's instructions, he felt around the crevice in the car-door, before finally wrapping his palm around a bottle that was cold to the touch; whilst keeping an eye on Ethan the entire time, concerned. Ethan was leaning over the steering wheel, groaning softly, looking as if he was in a war with his own mind."

* * *

Everything seemed normal when Grayson had finally returned home, throwing his car-keys carelessly on the couch, whistling some song that he couldn't remember the name of.

"Hey." Someone greeted. Grayson turned, only to find Ethan perched on a barstool, watching him observingly. "What's good?" Grayson replied, smiling back. It was good. Everything was good. _Ethan seemed to be in a good mood. He seemed much better than he had been in the past few weeks. _

Ethan shrugged wordlessly, and Grayson realized that Ethan was fully dressed. This made Grayson narrow his eyes; seeing as Ethan hadn't bothered to change out of his infamous sweat-shorts, or his sweatpants and an oversized hoodie - for the past week. But, now, his hair looked to be freshly washed, and he had shaved, making him look better. He was also wearing one of Grayson's shirts, but Grayson would let that slide for this time.

"I thought we should go out to eat. I'm hella hungry, bro." Ethan grinned weakly, looking more pale than usual. "I mean, I was just gonna ask you if you wanted to play PS4 with me, but fuck yeah, I'm down to go." Grayson shrugged his jacket back on, before standing where he was, awkwardly - still unsure about where they both were at, relationship-wise. It was only last night that Ethan had basically told him to fuck off towards his own room, and he'd never ever done that before.

They really were tip-toeing on eggshells around each other, and it was obvious.

"I'm driving." Ethan jogged out of the still-open door cheekily, before Grayson could protest, and Grayson simply rolled his eyes, before closing the door, and chasing after him. 

* * *

Once they had their seat-belts on, Ethan focused his gaze towards the road. "How was Nate?" Grayson asked innocently, desperate to make some type of conversation. It felt as if they were oceans apart, despite being right next to each other. He wished he knew what was wrong with Ethan, but he knew that Ethan would eventually tell him whenever he felt it was right. It was dark outside, and he turned the overhead lights on in the car.

"Uh." Ethan timidly turned the indicator on, before resting a hand on the handbrake. "Good." He finally drawled, looking at Grayson from the corner of his eye.

"Cool. I was actually with Kyle, and he was talking about…"

Grayson kept talking, but Ethan zoned out. He was glad that he had the company, but he found himself not being able to listen to meaningless small-talk. Ethan had never felt so alone before. He could barely focus on driving properly, and was beginning to regret the fact that he had persisted to drive.

"Shit!" Grayson suddenly exclaimed, making Ethan look up in alarm. "What?"

Grayson turned to face Ethan, his phone in his lap. "I forgot to lock the door."

Ethan rolled his eyes at such a trivial matter. "That's not even a big deal, bitch. We don't live in a neighbourhood." Glad that it wasn't anything too serious, Ethan found himself gazing ahead again, weaving through traffic effortlessly, as he made his way onto the freeway.

"Yeah, but what if someone breaks in, or some shit?" Grayson grumbled under his breath.

Ethan froze. He could barely register his surroundings, and all he heard were the words looping in his mind. "What did you say?" He stammered, fingers trembling. His grip on the steering wheel became tighter, and his knuckles turned white from the strain.

"What if someone broke in?" Grayson repeated, irritated, and wondering if his twin was going deaf. It certainly seemed like it.

Ethan could practically feel himself swerve towards the emergency lane, feeling faint. Just the mention of someone _breaking in, repeating what that fucking man had done to him_ made him dizzy-headed. He couldn't think straight, and he ignored Grayson exclaiming in surprise. "What the fuck, dude?"

"Shut. Up." Was all that Ethan could manage, gasping for air - as he parked. Other cars whizzed past his truck, and his headlights casted a shadow on the deserted emergency lane. The Californian highway was full of blaring traffic, and there wasn't any second chances, in case a car crash did occur.

Grayson wordlessly stared at Ethan in disbelief, wondering how his night had taken a complete 360* from what it was.

Ethan, meanwhile, could barely register his surroundings. He cupped his own face in his hands, leaning over the steering wheel. Grayson's sentence had literally triggered him, and he found himself feeling as if he was trapped underwater. Even the littlest of sounds were pissing him the fuck off, and he willed for it to be over; not caring any less about the fact that Grayson, the person he was trying to hide it from, was now witnessing it.

"E." Grayson whispered in concern, immediately wrapping his arms around Ethan, rocking him gently. It took him less than ten seconds to realise that Ethan was having an anxiety-attack, and the symptoms only resonated with him, because he had been through one too, when he was mobbed by a group of incredibly aggressive fans during their tour.

"Please let me help you. _Help me help you._" Grayson panted in disdain, his voice cracking, his breathing heavy.

"_I can't_." Ethan sniffled, his voice croaky, and barely audible because of the car-horns outside. They sat there for what seemed like forever, Grayson with his arms wrapped tightly around E, and Ethan's face wet from an endless stream of silent tears.

"Ethan, I'm going to count to ten, okay?" Grayson murmured into Ethan's hot skin, helping him shrug out of his jacket as he did so. Ethan grunted in response, visibly trembling. "I have pills." He groaned, one hand on the steering wheel to help keep him upright.

"What?" Grayson questioned, dumbfounded. He leaned back, aware of how difficult it must be for Ethan to be _talking_ when he could barely breathe.

Ethan finally looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "_Pills, Grayson_." He snapped harshly, feeling as if he was trapped in his own mind. Grayson's arms around him were the only thing keeping him grounded. He cleared his throat, his head pounding. "I have pills. In the water-bottle holder on your side."

Grayson didn't know how to react to the fact that his brother was taking _prescription medicine_ for something he didn't even know he had. Following Ethan's instructions, he felt around the crevice in the car-door, before finally wrapping his palm around a bottle that was cold to the touch; whilst keeping an eye on Ethan the entire time, concerned. Ethan was leaning over the steering wheel, groaning softly, looking as if he was in a war with his own mind.

"Here." Grayson said hurriedly, pulling it out, and opening it frantically. "How many?" He asked, not expecting a reply.

"Four." Ethan's throat felt as if it was closing up. "It says _two_ on the back, E." Grayson protested, his hazel eyes full of panic. He stared at the flustered Ethan in concern.

"_Just give me fucking four, Grayson_."

Ethan felt himself weaken, and wondered how unfair it was for Grayson, that he was out here acting like such a liability, in front of his twin. He hit the steering wheel's horn in frustration; and his truck beeped loudly for a solid few seconds.

Grayson's hand shook as he hesitantly handed him four blue pills, wondering who the person in front of him was - wondering who had replaced his positive, and sometimes _douchebag_, brother. Ethan looked as if he was merely a shell of his former self, and Grayson _really_ looked at him, for the first time in the month. His hair, that was previously blow-dried, now was tousled into messy locks; and his face was gradually turning red, his jaw clenched. The veins on his biceps were visible.

Ethan wordlessly dry-swallowed the pills, leaning his head back onto the car-seat, closing his eyes. He waited for the attack to subside, but it felt as if was only becoming worse.

* * *

_"Get the fuck off me." Ethan growled, wriggling in a state of rebellion as the masked man undid Ethan's front buttons. _

_"You'll like it, I promise." The guy chortled, his eyes wrinkling. "And, even if you don't -" His fingertips traced Ethan's plump lips teasingly. "Then, I don't give a shit." He laughed once again, before tangling his other hand in Ethan's previously-styled hair. _

_"If you want money, I can arrange it." Ethan spoke, his voice clear of any emotion. Of-course he wouldn't arrange any money; all he wanted was him to leave, and then he'd call the shit out of 911. He never expected to be in this situation, and as reality dawned on him, he was terrified. If this man was capable of tackling Ethan into a chair, and binding him (and Ethan was a pretty big guy, no matter what Grayson said) - then he could probably do anything else. _

_Ethan had opened the door earlier, thinking it was another obsessive fan who had made their way towards the Dolan Twins' house. He didn't even mind, today. Of-course, everyone deserved privacy, but he would never even dream of being sussed towards any of his fans; so he would take a picture with them, and then request them to not do that again. Grayson and Ethan were human-beings, after all. _

_But when he was greeted with the sight of a large man, asking where 'Grayson Dolan' was - and how he pushed his way into the hallway, he knew it was something sick, and nothing to do with being a fan. _

_"Fuck your money. Actually, fuck you in general. I'll be doing that shortly anyway." The guy smiled again, baring his whitened teeth. He looked as if he'd accomplished something brilliant, when instead; he was re-enacting a sick punishment for a crime that was never committed. _

_Ethan groaned softly in protest as the man took off Ethan's buttoned shirt successfully, before -_

* * *

"Two. Three. Four. Just listen to me count, E. Breathe properly. You do remember _how to breathe_, right, assclown? _Ethan. Please." _Grayson's voice made him snap out of it - it was course, lower than usual, and on the brink of emotion. Grayson blinked a few tears away as Ethan hesitantly looked up at him, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

"I _fucking love you_. Don't do that again." Grayson sighed in relief, pulling Ethan's limp body towards him. Protectively. The handbrake dug into Ethan's ribs uncomfortably, but he was grateful for the distraction. Ethan had been completely unresponsive for the past few minutes, and he'd only flinched slightly when Grayson had shook him earlier.

"I-" Ethan began, licking his lips slowly, his eyebrows raised. He decided not to say anything, and instead nuzzled deeper against Grayson's warm chest, wiping his wet face with his left hand. The overhead lights were still on, and the highway was still as crowded, and as busy as ever. They both ignored the cars whizzing past them, and instead, Grayson focused on Ethan's soft breathing, his grip on him tightening. He'd never felt fear seize him as tightly as it did when Ethan was deep into his anxiety-attack.

Instinctively, Grayson placed a kiss against Ethan's hair, before resting his head on Ethan's. For a few wordless minutes, they both stared outside of the dashboard window, watching traffic-lights change colour. Constellations twinkled above of them, oblivious.

If Grayson was to be honest; it made his heart drop to realise how broken Ethan really was. Almost beyond repair.

"Let's go home. I'm going to drive." Grayson murmured, still not letting go of him. He felt Ethan nod gently against him in agreement. Grayson realized that he was sweating, and that he was still gripping the anxiety-medication-bottle tightly in his other hand. 

"You're going to tell me what happened when we get home." He finally declared, pursuing his lips, not wanting to hear any protests against it. Knowing that he couldn't keep it to himself any longer, Ethan simply nodded again, knowing he was safe now.

Ethan normally hated being treated like a baby, which meant that he was always cold and brooding towards everyone, rather than being soft, and embracing. However, this felt right. _I'm not being baby-ied. I'm being loved. _He thought to himself.

He felt again the rush of helplessness, the sinking yielding, the surging tide of warmth that left him limp in Grayson's arms; but it was channelled in a positive way, that was for sure. The world suddenly didn't seem so difficult to face, now that Grayson knew that there was something wrong.

* * *


	5. reserved for lovers, only.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "One can only describe the expression that Grayson made, as absolutely horrified. The colour drained from his face, and he willed for Ethan to tell him that this all was a joke, or a sick prank, at any moment now. However, Ethan looked even more paler than he did, and instead, seemed to gather all of his courage to continue."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone's who has read up to here. wow. so, this is finally, finally over. it was very difficult to voice, and write, but very much worth it & i hoped you enjoyed it. 
> 
> i may add an epilogue. let me know what you think. 
> 
> reader disclaimer: this is definitely not for younger audiences.

"Okay, so -" Ethan almost had the surprising urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all - and he could feel a chuckle tickle the back of his throat. "Promise me you won't be mad." Ethan eventually muttered, knowing it was pointless, because Grayson was about to flip his shit, _and he had full-right to. _Ethan knew that he would end up with bruised fists, and a dented wall - at the very least - if he discovered that Grayson had been sexually-abused. _Fuck. _Even thinking about Grayson in that situation made his blood boil; his eyebrows furrow; and his fists clench.

* * *

_He was fine._ He was fine with feeling sympathetic for himself. He was fine with popping pills. Fine with feeling like a helpless motherfucker, even though it did make him spite himself entirely - but, most of all, he was _relieved_ that none of it had happened to Grayson.

He was the one there when it had happened. When the man had intruded his way into what had felt like Ethan and Grayson's safe place - their _home. _Ethan was the one who had felt rough hands sizing him up - body parts mingling with his own - feeling hot breath tickle his nape whenever the man would lean over him in sick admiration. Sick obsession.

_"Aren't you just a pretty sight. Maybe not as pretty as your filthy brother, but you'll do." _The masked man had then murmured, whilst sliding on latex gloves, being cautious as to not leave a single fingerprint. Not that there was any point, anyway. When he had finally left, Ethan was numb, and devoid of any emotion or any feelings. Silent tears had cascaded down his jaw, and he remained in the same chair. Even though there was no tape or rope restricting him back to the office-chair - his entire posture remained frigid, and unsettled.

The worst curse? Knowing that you were trapped in your own body. You were trapped with the _memories_ of teeth gliding against hot skin; tongues caressing _things that should've been reserved for lovers only. _

That's exactly how Ethan Dolan had felt. When he had finally shakily stood up, three hours later, the reality of what had happened had hit him so hard, that he had immediately collapsed to his knees, cupping his face in his hands, choking out dry sobs. There, in his living room - their 10-Million PlayButton watched him from the wall above, almost mockingly - reminding him of what had caused this. A person who was so jealous of his achievements, that they had taken it upon themselves to leave Ethan with a nasty, gaping, emotional scar.

All Ethan thought about, while the man was busy leaving behind a memory to never be forgotten; was Grayson. Grayson's laugh. Grayson's smile. Grayson's bad jokes. After all, you don’t forget the face of the person who was your last hope.

The rest of the three days passed like sand trickling down an hourglass. Intricate thoughts remained in his mind, and all he did was either sleep, or stare at his phone, wondering when he would gather enough guts to call the police. The cops. _Someone. Something. _

But, when Grayson had finally returned home from his visit to his sister - Ethan immediately decided that he would mute himself. He would have rather been sexually-abused over a thousand times, than let _anyone_ even lay a finger on his twin brother - Grayson. He still remembered how he recoiled from Grayson's touch when Gray had walked into their house - not noticing anything wrong. "Missed you, bro." Grayson had whispered, wrapping his arms firmly around Ethan's _bruised_ waist. Ethan had winced in pain, and goosebumps had trickled up his nape - making him push Grayson away self-instinctively. "Same." Ethan could barely muster, before returning to the darkness of his own room.

He'd had already put up fabric on the wall-to-floor mirrors in his room - _fucking hating _his reflection. He hated how his hazel eyes would glint from all the pain that he had kept hidden. He hated how his mouth would curl up in disdain whenever he caught sight of himself in another mirror - and he avoided every self-reflecting item in the house, at all costs; playing hide-and-seek with his own gaze.

The first week _after the incident, _was the most difficult. His Snapchat had remained un-updated, and abandoned. Ethan had bought himself a first-aid kit; treating his cuts and bruises whenever he was certain that Grayson was asleep. He'd exhale sharply whenever he'd apply antisceptic to an open-wound, praying that it wouldn't leave any scars.

It wasn't easy, but it had to be done.

Now, it had been a month. No phone calls were placed to the police, or any hotlines, or anything. Frustrated phone-calls were definitely placed to their mother, from Grayson, who complained about how weird Ethan was being - but other than that? Radio silence.

Until now. Until he had to go and have that stupid fucking panic-attack right in front of the person who he was trying to hide it from.

To admit that he had been through all of that, had been his worst nightmare up until now.

* * *

_Until now. _

"Sit right-fucking-there, and speak." Grayson crossed his arms, after Ethan had asked him 'to not get mad.'

The car-keys lay pathetically on the kitchen-counter, along with a few other pointless things that weren't really suited to this occasion - such as; a stupid keychain in the shape of an armadillo - bought from the local thrift shop; a stained polka-dotted coffee-mug from a Valentine's gift in 2015; and, a karaoke microphone from a few months ago.

Ethan stared at all those things, his gaze raking over them observingly. He was avoiding eye-contact with his brother, _if it weren't obvious already. _

"You can't do anything if I decide not to talk." Ethan licked his lips, and spoke testily, looking up from underneath his eyelashes.

"I'll tie you to the fucking chair, and keep you there, until you tell me what's been going on." Grayson growled, goosebumps visible on his biceps. A cold breeze floated in from the still-open door, making them both shiver visibly.

It took all of Ethan's self-control to not collapse at that sheer sentence. "Don't _fucking _say that_._" Ethan snarled, his eyes narrowing - knuckles turning white from grasping the bar-stool underneath him. His world was an axis - nothing felt as if it was keeping him upright anymore.

"Tell me." Came the ignorant demand once-more.

Ethan was utterly defeated. He had no excuses, no stories, and no lies left to tell. "Look, can we talk about this in your room? Or mine? Or some shit? I don't know anymore." He tiredly mumbled, not even meeting his twin's eyes anymore.  
There was always a sign of complete weakness from people, and this was one of them.

The reaction was a mere raised eyebrow, but Grayson eventually complied, and they both trudged into Grayson's room - who was expecting nothing, but at the same time, absolutely everything.

As Ethan made himself comfortable on Grayson's bed; acting like it was his second room (_which it basically was) _\- Grayson took a seat at his desk. Then, they stared at each other. Their eyes locked for what seemed like a few shudderingly-long minutes, before Ethan finally opened that mouth of his, and let it all pour out.

"Y-You were away. Someone rang the doorbell. I answered, because I'm a dumb fuck." Speaking in short sentences helped him. His voice didn't waver as much that way, and he gulped nervously. Grayson was beginning to become impatient, not realising where Ethan was going with all of this. But, still, he listened wordlessly. His iPhone rung in the other room, and it was ignored by the pair.

"He. He was looking for you, _Grayson_. Asked about you. Bigger than me in size. Probably double. Looked like one of those bodybuilder douchebags." He breathed in deeply again, closing his eyes. "I told him that you were away on a trip. Also, since I'm a narcissist, I thought he wanted a photo, so I stepped closer to him _an_d fucking made_ a pose." _

No comment came from Grayson.

This somehow made Ethan feel more propelled to continue, and he sat up straighter, willing himself to finish what he had started. "But, like. He grabs me, right? And, I'm like, holy shit, what the fuck, this does not feel like a friendly neighbour who dropped in to take a picture with me. Instead, he leads me back inside, and keep in mind - I can't do anything against it, right? Because this _asshole_ is basically blocking the doorway, and now I'm beginning to become intimidated, and holy shit, Grayson, _you weren't there_." Ethan breathed, making Grayson freeze as the words sunk in.

"So, me being the scrawny bitch that I am - _not everyone's buff like you, Gray_I tell him politely to _get the fuck out of my house. _And, guess what? Breaking news: _he does not. _Instead. He shuts the door, and then I'm realizing that I don't have a fucking bodyguard, or even a pet dog. It's just me, and him, Grayson. In our house. We don't even have any security measures."

One can only describe the expression that Grayson made, as absolutely horrified. The colour drained from his face, and he willed for Ethan to tell him that this all was a joke, or a sick prank, at any moment now. However, Ethan looked even more paler than he did, and instead, seemed to gather all of his courage to continue.

"He said things. I couldn't do anything. He wrestled me into the chair, and grabbed the rope that you had once used to build that tree-swing. I _was tied up like a little sissy, _right? And, I'm telling him. I'm almost begging him. I'm like, I'll give you whatever the fuck you want, just leave me alone."

All emotion almost evaporated from Ethan's eyes as he glanced at his brother. "But, he didn't. All of this happened in under two minutes, and he didn't even hesitate."

"What the fuck are _you saying_. 'Hesitate' to do what?" Grayson could barely breathe, his hands curled up into tight fists. Both of them stayed silent for a few seconds, and Ethan shut his eyes - raking a hand through his hair.

"He touched me. Then, when he had enough fun with that - he treated me like his little punching bag." The words were weighed like a tonne of bricks.

Grayson let out a half-whimper, and a half-growl - not knowing what to do, or what to say.

Ethan snorted almost pitingly. "And, you know what, Gray? I took it all. Half-fucking-naked. Not able to move. I sat there, and my eyes were closed the entire time. But, I could feel everything. And, you wanna know something else? I _fucking hate myself for it." _

Tears now flowed freely down Ethan's face, and he swiped them away angrily. "I'm disgusting, right. I feel like I belong in a broken-goods department. I let that happen to me."

"E." Grayson whispered, his heart dropping - his eyes watering resentfully. "I'm so, so, so fucking sorry I left you alone. I should've been there. But, _I wasn't._" Grayson made his way over to the other-half of him; his twin; his best-friend; the person that mattered the most. The person that looked, and seemed to be broken, past healing.

Before Grayson could even lay a hand on him, Ethan sprung away, looking up at him in shame. "Please don't touch me. I don't want you to."

He stood up as if to prove his point, and peeled off his shirt, revealing his back; making Grayson's heart skip a beat. Grayson staggered backwards in shock, his eyes glued to his twin's bare skin.

On his warm flesh, were various markings of fragmented cuts, and scars. Some purple, some pink, and some were still red & raw. Golf-ball size bruises littered his spine, and it was almost like a horrifying work of art. It was an artwork that a sadist would be proud of.

That's when Grayson Dolan lost it. He punched the nearest wall, breathing heavily. Blood oozed from his knuckles almost instantly. Not knowing how to deal with the surge of emotion wracking his entire body, and mind - he swore - stepping over towards Ethan despite his request to not be touched.

Both boys stood there with broken hearts that even super-glue couldn't fix. Ethan's towering height now drooped, and the room was suffocating him. He drew in a sharp breath as he felt Gray's cold hand reach for his waist.

Grayson, without thinking, traced one of the longer zig-zagged cuts on Ethan's back, wincing as he did so. "Oh my God." Grayson was almost in a trance, not wanting to believe that any of this was real. Blood stained his finger as he did so, and he pulled back quickly, crossing his arms to avoid giving into the urge of embracing Ethan to tell him that no one would ever lay a finger on him again. The familiar smell of Dettol was faint, almost imperceptible.

"Please don't." Ethan's voice was barely audible; his vision blurred by tears.

"I-" Grayson stuttered, his eyes meeting Ethan's eyes; both of their mouths slightly parted; the tension almost penetrable with a knife.

Ethan let his shirt fall back on, covering all of his insecurities, and flaws. "That's why I didn't want to do the 'HotTub Confessions Part-3' video. " Ethan mumbled, turning back to face Grayson, who's jaw was still dropped.

"What did he _do?_" The pain was evident in Grayson's voice; his posture sharp, and protective - even though there were no threats around.

Ethan scoffed, almost irritated that he had to keep on repeating himself. He stepped closer to Grayson, who backed away instinctively. Ethan acted like he didn't notice that _but he did_, and to see his own brother afraid of who he was - _scared _him.

"He put his fucking cock _inside of me_, Grayson, alright? Clear enough for you? He took off his belt, and thought that it'd be fun to experiment his little sadist kink with me. Felt as if I was in a live rendition of Fifty-Shades-Of-_Fucking-_Gray." Ethan growled. His gaze hardened, and his hair flopped poetically over his left eyebrow.

"And, he _was loving it. _Called me his pussy-boy. Told me I was worthless, and that I'd never amount to anything. And, how my _twin brother _would always be more superior to me. You know what else he said? He told me, that he'd even prefer _raping_ you, over me - that's how useless I was. He called me your stunt-double. An extra." Ethan couldn't stop talking, and midst-sentence, it came out as sobs.

"_Ethan." _Grayson choked out, pulling his brother closer to himself, unable to hear any more. They both fell back onto the bed, and Ethan punched the mattress in frustration. Tears dripped off his face pathetically, and he grunted at the fact that he was being such a _pussy. _Grayson lay next to him, speechless.

When Ethan finally looked up; the first thing that he saw was the wall-mirror beside Gray's bed. He snorted bitterly, catching sight of himself. "Look at me." He muttered, watching his red-faced-reflection in almost-fascination. "I'll never be the same." A white scar was visible on his right eyebrow, and he tugged his messy hair in resentment. Grayson's gaze followed his, until they both ended up staring at each other in the mirrored reflection. Silence settled between them - unvoiced words on the tip of their tongues.

"I'm calling the police." Grayson finally declared, standing up and leaving the room. He did _not _know how to comfort his stricken brother, despite eighteen years of being twins. All he knew, was that he had to do something. Otherwise, he would go fucking crazy.

"No." Ethan panted, sitting up. "Grayson." His voice became desperate, and he followed his twin. "You're not fucking _calling the cops. _"

Grayson was already in the kitchen, his fingers thumbing in the familiar numbers on his phone's keypad. "Gray, no. You can't."

"I will." Determination oozed from the sentence, and he was just about to hold the phone up to his ear, when Ethan snatched it off of him, glaring. "What happened, has already happened. I can't let you do that. You have to understand."

"Um, no." Grayson took his phone back, talking as if he was a kindergarten teacher trying to explain something to a stubborn kid. The call had already been placed, and a confused 911 operator was talking on the other side of the line. "Hello?" A female voice rang out.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, before Ethan tried to reach over and end the call. Grayson held him back. "This is Grayson Do-"

That's when Ethan tackled Grayson onto the floor, trying to pull the phone away. A shocked Grayson watched him in amazement, before pushing him off of himself - continuing his sentence. "Dolan. I need to report-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Ethan howled, trying to wrestle the iPhone out of Grayson's grip. Grayson tried to stand, but Ethan pulled him back down, and Gray clumsily knocked the blender off of the counter, making it shatter as it hit the floor. Blood trickled from Ethan's left arm as he leaned back on it, obliviously.

The phone fell a few feet away from them, and they both dived for it; Ethan's hand pulling Grayson's hair, and Grayson trying to gently pry away his injured brother.

"Just let me do this." Grayson breathed out, the painful grip on his hair making him inhale sharply. "Sorry, can you repeat that please?" The 911 operator asked in concern, her voice loud and clear over speaker.

"They need _to know._" Grayson tried to protest again, when Ethan clearly wasn't letting go of him. Ethan shook his head frantically. "Don't." He squeaked, desperation audible.

Grayson shoved Ethan away harder this time, and stood up - the phone in his hand. He jogged towards the other room, his face feeling wet, without any consent. "Need to report sexu-"

He felt Ethan lunge at him, and they both grunted in pain as they hit the hallway-wall. One of their favourite paintings fell, hitting the glowing display lamp, which also hit the floor. "Stop." Grayson panted, clenching his eyes shut, and putting a hand on his ribs. A moment of alarm dawned on the both of them, as Grayson gasped for air.  
"I can't fucking breathe." He cried, letting the phone drop onto the floor. He faced the ceiling, and Ethan tensed up beside him.

"Where's your inhaler?" Ethan exclaimed, feeling up Grayson's pockets. The only thing in them, was his wallet. Ethan half-crawled, and half-walked to the kitchen - frantically going through the contents in the drawers. His hand finally closed around a familiar blue inhaler, and he practically sprinted back to Grayson, kneeling next to him. Grayson grabbed it from him weakly, and shot a few pumps into his mouth, waiting for the breathlessness to subside.

Ethan felt like jelly. Beads of sweat decorated his forehead, and the veins in his neck bulged. He lay there on the hallway floor, inching towards his brother. They both felt as if they were shattered in two. Grayson shut his eyes again, tugging his twin closer towards him.

The 911 operator finally hung up, assuming that it was a prank call of some sort. They both heard the click of the receiver. The only sound audible after that, was the quiet hum of the refrigerator. 

They were both crying at this point. But, neither of them said anything. Words were swallowed, never to be voiced again.

"I'm sorry." Grayson groaned, hitting his head back on the tiled floor. Ethan shook his head, covering his eyes with one of his hands. "I wasn't there for you. You needed me, and I was out there having the time of my life. God. If I find whoever did this, I'll kill him, Ethan. I'll rip him apart. With my bare _fucking_ hands." He looked down at his big hands as if for confirmation. This was a lot coming from him, considering that Grayson Dolan would hesitate to even hurt a fly.

"I don't know what to do." Ethan whispered, feeling weighed-down. Admitting it freely was a hard feat. The confession felt like bricks. 

"Fuck. Uh. We'll figure it out." Grayson murmured back, leaning over to brush the hair out of Ethan's eye.

Ethan turned to face him; his eyes full of sorrow. "My head is so fucked up, Gray. It's all I think about."

"I'll fix you. It'll get better. And, I _promise to fucking God - _I'll find whoever did that to you. The motherfucker who couldn't even reveal his face." Came the reply. 

They stayed there, on the hallway floor, for what seemed like hours - legs tangled, hands clasped. There was no way that Grayson would ever leave his twin's side again. They were two halves of a soul - and they'd never waver too far apart from each other, after all of this.

After all; sometimes, hearts are given away uncritically. Now, it was up to them - to attempt to fix whatever shattered remains that their own hearts had left behind. 


End file.
